


I Feel Pretty

by Harryissuchalittleshit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, F/M, Self-Harm, Slight Drug Use, Sort Of, basically things get bad then they get better then they mellow out, but there is an abusive relationship, the violence is mainly self-harm, this is not romanticizing mental illness or eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-14 18:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13596126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harryissuchalittleshit/pseuds/Harryissuchalittleshit
Summary: There have been three words that Roxanne can’t get out of her head. Words that have caused her to go to the extreme. Words that have caused her to hurt those who she loves. Words that have caused her to hurt herself.





	1. Prologue: Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> This is not about romanticizing mental illness or eating disorders, at the beginning of each chapter I will put in the notes which trigger warnings may apply.
> 
> On a separate note, the song that inspired this fic is 'I Feel Pretty/Unpretty' from Glee.

_"I stare at my reflection in the mirror_

_Why am I doing this to myself?_

_Losing my mind on a tiny error_."

\- Ed Sheeran

* * *

 

I hate mirrors.

I hate how they let you judge. I hate how they show all your imperfections. I hate how they follow you around everywhere.

 

I began to notice mirrors, in all shapes and sizes, when I was young. I was around three years old when I first noticed that I could see my reflection in a glass of water. Four was when I noticed that well-polished silverware distorted your face, but you could still get a somewhat accurate reflection. Five was when we got the mirror.

 

It was a dumb gift to my father, Uncle Percy thought that it would be a laugh, but I hated it.

 

It was an ‘Insult Mirror’, the mirrors that talk back to you. It was constantly telling me to brush my hair, fix my shirt, and put on some makeup.

 

I was five, let me remind you.

 

I had bigger issues at five, than a rude mirror.

 

Molly was sick, I had to go to ‘Muggle’ school, and my dad was never around.

 

I really loved my dad; he was my knight in shining armor. Sure he was missing an ear, sure he always smelled like smoke from his failed inventions, and sure he wore clothes that clashed horribly with his hair.

 

But he was my dad, _my_ dad. He didn’t care if my piggy-tails were uneven, he didn’t care if there was a stain on my shirt, he didn’t care that my fingers were dyed blue, as it was my favorite color at the time and ever picture I drew was blue.

 

That period was known to my family as the blue period, for Freddie it was red.

 

Though whenever I went to hug my dad when he got home, whether from the shop or St. Mungo’s, he would pick me up and the stupid mirror would make a rude comment.

 

About _me_.

 

A _five_ year old.

 

The mirror made me so angry; all it did was comment about me, not Freddie who could be covered in mud – _Oh! Such a cute little boy_.-, my mother tired from her shift at St. Mungo’s and her makeup smeared all over her face – _The lovely woman of the house, looking good as usual_.-, or my father, in his…state – _Welcome home, don’t you look handsome_.

 

It’s not hard for me to say that the mirror was happily smashed by a ball one day when Victoire – _Quite the beauty you are._ \- was watching us.

 

I had been so happy, for weeks it was gone, never commenting on my appearance. It was out of my life for what seemed like forever.

 

Then it wasn’t.

 

Uncle Percy – _Handsome man, nice tie you got there_.- got dad another one, and every year the tradition began. Uncle Percy got dad a mirror; I found some way to get rid of it.

 

My favorite time was the first one, smashing it with a ball.

 

I did get more inventive as the years went on, my plans got more and more elaborate, one year I was even able to smash it before my dad unwrapped it.

 

Correction that was my favorite one.

 

I had a whole year of silence, no rude, sneering comments. No more unhelpful suggestions. No more of its outlandish presences.

 

But then the company came out with one that couldn’t be smashed, just in time for my dad’s birthday.

 

I had to resort to hiding it, finding anyway I could to make it disappear.

 

But it always found its way back, always, always, always.

 

_My dear, don’t you just look a bit overweight. My dear, put a bit more makeup on. My dear, those clothes aren’t for you, maybe something a bit less tight._


	2. Chapter One: Fat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has trigger warnings for anorexia, purging of food, self harm, and minor drug use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! I want to once again put out there that I am not trying to romanticize mental illness or eating disorders. I also want to put out there that his is just headcanons that I have, nothing more or less.

 

 _"Well, I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)_  
_God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)_  
_We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)_  
_God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)"_

\- Jason Marz

* * *

 

I was fat.

 

I could feel it move with every step I made, I could feel it move when I turned my body, I could feel it move when I breathed. I knew that a lot of other girls would tell me that I was stupid, but I knew that I was fat. I wasn’t skinny, not like Dominique or Little Lily.

 

I hated how they didn’t even try, I’ve watched the way they eat, it’s disgusting and their both so small. It’s unfair.

 

And I was the fat one.

 

I don’t know when I got into the habit of pinching my stomach whenever I felt anxious or scared; it was so gross…and distracting. The fat, it was _there_. I couldn’t concentrate in class knowing that it was there, on me, in me.

 

It was so gross.

 

Katie kept smacking my hand away from my stomach, telling me that lunch was in just a little while. What she didn’t know.

 

I couldn’t even begin to think of lunch, all the food, _yuck_.

 

I felt sick at the thought of eating. I felt sick thinking about food. All the fat.

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

It was the first time I said it. It wasn’t a lie. I really, just wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t eat. All that food, it made me feel sick, disgusting.

 

I was already skipping breakfast though, and at night, after everyone went to sleep….

 

No, I should eat lunch.

 

Katie rolled her eyes, telling me that my body was playing tricks on me, it was only because I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I hadn’t eaten breakfast in almost a month.

 

She didn’t know, she didn’t understand.

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

When the bell rang, releasing us from class, I headed to the library, determined to figure out what Professor Chang had been talking about in charms. I needed to concentrate, I had N.E.W.T.’s at the end of the year, and I needed to get into the Healer’s program.

 

I continued to go to the library instead of lunch for the rest of the week, and on the weekend I hid in the farthest corner from the entrance, that was when I met Landon. He offered me a cigarette, told me that it would keep me thin. He was a Ravenclaw, they were smart, they knew about these kinds of things.

 

Right?

 

He became a source of comfort after that; I went to him when I started to make myself sick at lunch too. I would find him in the back of the library, our corner, we would share a cigarette. Talk, sometimes.

 

Wizarding cigarettes were easier to get addicted to; they had flavors such as mint and wintergreen, but also those of strawberry, mixed berry, and lemonade. The only thing I had to get use to was the smoke, it burned slightly, but after my third it felt right. I began to feel better after every one that I smoked, after every stomach full that I was getting rid of.

 

He called me skinny even with the layer of fat hanging on my stomach.

 

It was around this time that I quit Quidditch.

 

I couldn’t play it anymore, I was too exhausted from school and homework and my secrets. No one knew about my getting sick.

 

I stopped going to the Great Hall in general right before the Christmas holidays. I was finally losing weight, dropping pounds and shedding inches. No one seemed to really notice my absence, everyone was worried about Molly, her cancer had relapsed and everyone was waiting for a letter to come from home.

 

Holding either good or bad news.

 

I loved Molly, but with each passing day I was waiting for the letter telling us she didn’t make it, that she died.

 

At least that way she was beating all my expectations for her, I used to do that when I was younger too.

 

On the train ride home I sat as far away from everyone as I could. But considering we had as many people as we could fit in our tiny compartment, it wasn’t easy. I sat between Dominique and Louis on the floor, not touching either one of them, but so everyone would think that my silence was because Dominique was sleeping and Louis, well everyone was quiet in his presences. I was trying to hold myself still, but I could feel my fat moving, it was the vibrations of the train.

 

No one was there to get Freddie and I from the platform, considering where we live –on the other side of London, away from Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione’s, and Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey’s houses-, and the current weather conditions –a blizzard, of course- no one offered to take us home.

 

It wasn’t that big of a deal, we could just Apparate home or walk the few blocks to the Leaky Cauldron and floo home. But it was the thought though that mattered; it was the thought of our parents being there, to see us that mattered. Normally we would go to dinner, or dad would pick us up and mum would have our favorite dinner at home, ready for when we walked in the door.

 

Not that I would eat anyways.

 

Freddie and I Apparated home, where the house was dark and quiet and cold. Mail was piled up on the desk where mum kept all our financial stuff and the computer. The air was stale and I could feel the dust that puffed up with each step on the carpet.

 

Mum and dad haven’t been home in a long time.

 

When Freddie tried flipping on a light, nothing happened, no one paid the bill.

 

We Apparated to the shop.

 

The flat at least showed signs of life, even if that was at a minimum, the lights worked and there were papers all over the table, but at least those looked somewhat organized.

 

We slept on the couch that night.

 

We spent the next few days in the flat, or in the shop, trying to help out in any way we could. We knew where everything went, in the summer it was our job –along with Molly, Lucy, and anyone who was in trouble, James- to stock the shelves.

 

On Christmas Eve we went to the Burrow after closing, everyone was laughing and smiling, even mum and dad. It took everything I had to not scream at them, to ask them where they been the last week, why they didn’t bother to find us.

 

Freddie talked to them; I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get a word in anyways. Freddie knew that I was going to pop my lid and scream.

 

I went to bed that night, before dinner, and then woke up late in the middle of the night to get sick. It had been hard to find a time to do this with living with Freddie in the flat; I had to do it on our different breaks, when there was no chance of anyone finding me.

 

On Christmas, no one noticed that I wasn’t eating; we normally had breakfast and snacked until dinner –which was normally between three and four on that day. I didn’t eat breakfast and I didn’t snack at all, I was trying my hardest to go unnoticed, which was working well until dinner. I put the minimum amount of food on my plate, but this was hard considering I was sitting across from Nana Molly. She kept telling me how I was too thin and pilled more food on my plate, with every extra helping I felt more and more sick.

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

I bolted from the room before she could add more, leaving my plate far, far behind me.

 

I didn’t visit the Burrow for the rest of the holidays.

 

I was able to hide again in Hogwarts, away from my parents, away from Freddie, and away from any friends or cousins. I kept myself where I felt that I belonged, in the back corner of the library with Landon. He took care of me in the ways I wanted him to, he didn’t try to shove food down my mouth, he didn’t care that I made myself sick.

 

It was getting surprisingly easier to get sick with each passing day.

 

The stress of my classes, which I weren’t even bothering to go to anymore.

 

The stress of Molly, whether she was going to die or not.

 

The stress of LeeAnne, who was pregnant with Freddie’s child(ren).

 

The stress of the small bump of fat on my stomach, which no matter how many times I threw up, or how many meals I skipped (almost every one of them, though I did occasionally eat half of a plain piece of toast that Landon would bring me). The bump wouldn’t leave, I was always nervous about it, pinching my skin so much that bruises in that area weren’t uncommon.

 

What didn’t stress me was the blood that I was sometimes throwing up. It happened and not commonly, I just made sure to drink more water.

 

But I was finally skinny, not even Little Lily or Dominique were as skinny as I was.

 

When we went home for the next set of holidays, no one noticed how thin I was, it was all about LeeAnne. LeeAnne who I could barely look at because she was so, _big_. I had to keep telling myself that she was pregnant, that not all of it was fat, but it just made me feel sick.

 

I was able to get out of dinner by saying this, mum and dad didn’t even notice. LeeAnne’s overprotective crazy parents were over; it was all about Freddie now, now that Molly wasn’t on her death bed.

 

(We got the news two days before we left that she was in remission again.)

 

All the clothes I got for Christmas were too big now, not even the few clothes that I stole from Molly, Lily, and Dominique fit anymore. It wasn’t like they were even missing them, they were winter clothes, but I wore them as I was always cold now.

 

On the way down to the beach house (our annual family trip), I had to sit beside Katie. We had stopped talking back in January after the holidays, she had tried to make me eat and she didn’t understand that I just wasn’t hungry.

 

Ever.

 

James was on her other side and beside him was Lorcan, the two of them were talking about Quidditch and Katie occasionally put in a word or two. Freddie and LeeAnne were sitting in front of us, talking quietly about their twin boys (names, they just found out last night). I stared out the window, feeling cold and tired.

 

When we finally got to the beach house, I dragged my stuff upstairs and fell asleep on the closest bed I could find. I slept through dinner and woke up in the middle of the night, sick.

 

I was actually able to just think about food now and I could make myself sick. I haven’t felt the burn of my stomach acid since the beginning of October and I just ignored the blood in the toilet bowl. I pinched my stomach, the bump of fat.

 

The next morning I came down too early, everyone was eating breakfast.

 

Dad called me over to him and I sat down carefully in my seat. I felt warm enough to wear a white sundress that I wore once when I was twelve (before I had my growth spurt), and a light jacket that was actually Lily’s, they were both still too big.

 

Mum set down a plate of food in front of me, it was once my favorite breakfast –French toast with fresh strawberries and whip cream, along with a tall glass of her special orange/strawberry/pineapple juice-, but now all I could do was push my plate away.

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

Mum wasn’t buying it; she told me I couldn’t leave the table until I had eaten my food and drank my juice.

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

Dad told me to eat and I could suddenly feel all the eyes of my cousins, family friends, aunts, uncles, Freddie, and my parents on me, waiting for me to eat.

 

I threw my glass across the table and my plate of food at my mother (I didn’t throw it hard enough as it just crashed to the floor and shattered the plate). I stormed out of the house, towards the beach with my parents yelling after me.

 

Then everything went black when I stepped out onto the beach.


	3. Chapter Two: Ugly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has warnings for body dysmorphia, self harm, violence, and an abusive relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to once again put out there that I am not trying to romanticize mental illness or eating disorders.

## Chapter Two: Ugly

* * *

" _You're insecure_  
 _Don't know what for_  
 _You're turning heads when you walk through the door_  
 _Don't need make-up, to cover up_  
 _Being the way that you are is enough_ "

\- One Direction 

 

I was ugly.

 

It was bad enough that I was fat, but I was ugly too.

 

My skin was a ugly shade in between white and black. It wasn’t tan, but that was probably the closest _color_ I could compare it too.

 

Gray.

 

That was it, my skin was gray. Not white. Not Black.

 

Gray.

 

My hair was the same as my skin, stuck between black and Weasley red.

 

Too dark, yet too light. I had no idea what to call it, other than ugly.

 

I couldn’t also forget the weird texture, not curly, not wavy, not frizzy, and not straight. It was a weird mixture of the four, though if I did try to straighten it, I would have an afro, I know as I’ve tried it before.

 

I looked like a freak.

 

“I’m ugly.”

 

It was during the same time that I stopped eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner that I started. The first time was an accident, but it continued on from then.

 

I was shaving my legs in the shower; I started taking them late at night, right after I got sick. Even though I put silencing charms on the door to the dorm, I liked to hear the shower running, or the sound of the faucet running water. I’ve always liked the sound of water.

 

It _was_ an accident, I didn’t mean to do it, but it felt so good. The sudden, overwhelming good rush of energy, endorphins, it was nice.

 

No one would understand.

 

I started to do it every few days after that, either on my arms, where my shirts would hide the marks, or my legs, where they could be hidden easily. No one noticed as it was, no one noticed anything about me anymore.

 

It was even easier to do over the first set of holidays, I did it every night that my parents weren’t home, every night that Freddie and I slept on the couch, curled into to separate, never touching balls. I knew that he saw the marks at least once before we went to the Burrow. He didn’t say anything, probably thought that it was an old scar from when we were younger or something.

 

I didn’t blame him.

 

I wouldn’t want to deal with an ugly girl like me either.

 

His ugly, ugly sister.

 

When I saw Molly, all I could think about was how pretty she was, even though she didn’t have any hair, even though she was _too_ skinny.

 

I wanted to be pretty like her, she still had her nice eyes, her nice skin.

 

“I’m ugly.”

 

That’s what I started to tell myself when I got back from the holidays, I would look in the mirror after my shower. With my sore arms and legs, ugly skin color, even uglier hair. I would tell myself the truth.

 

I started to avoid people too; I skipped my classes to be in the library where Landon found me every day. I didn’t talk to my dorm mates if I could help it, not even Katie. She didn’t even bother to try with me anymore.

 

Landon told me I’m pretty, I liked the sound of that word on his lips. Pretty.

 

I wasn’t pretty though, he knew that, he added to my ugliness.

 

Black, purple, blue, green, yellow.

 

Those were the colors that belong on my skin, which made me feel pretty.

 

At least a little bit.

 

He’d trace the colors on my back; push on them to see if I’d make a noise.

 

I never did, he’d make new colors when I didn’t.

 

I started to feel less stressed at night, while during the day it sometimes felt like I couldn’t breathe.

 

I was stressed out because of my classes, that I didn’t go to, out of fear of everyone seeing my ugly face.

 

I was stressed out because of Molly, whether she was going to die or not, as I waited for the letter telling me she was gone. Though I had no idea what I would do with myself then.

 

I was stressed out because of LeeAnne, who was pregnant with Freddie’s child(ren). I wanted her feel like I did, that she was ugly, the fat that started to form on her, and it made me sicker with each passing day.

 

And then I was also stressed out because of the small bump of fat on my stomach, which no matter how many times I turned my razor on myself, or how many times I pinched myself (or Landon made color appear there), the bump wouldn’t leave. I was most nervous and anxious about that bump that I started up every night, pressing the cold blade into my too warm skin.

 

“I’m ugly.”

 

By now my hair started to break off and fall out, I stopped brushing it because I was sure that I wouldn’t have any after I did. It was also starting to turn gray, no _white_ , it was colorless and ugly.

 

Like me.

 

LeeAnne was my parents main focus, the baby (or really babies, twin boys), were Freddie’s main focus, mine was to stay out of either of their focus. It was easy to do so, with the thick winter sweaters I stole from Molly, Dominique, and Lily, they covered everything.

 

On the ride down to the beach trip, James kept asking me if I was too warm. I told him I wasn’t, that I was cold, but that didn’t stop mum or dad from putting the windows down. I sat shivering in the back next to Katie, James, and Lorcan, trying not to listen to their conversation about Quidditch, something that I would be into at the beginning of the school year.

 

When we got to the beach house, I went upstairs, while everyone else went out onto the beach to play football (a weird Muggle sport that Hugo loves). I slept for the day, through every meal, and then went out to the hall bathroom. I made myself sick, and then took a shower, placing my blade against my skin.

 

The sharp, wonderful sensation filled me with happiness and energy.

 

But I also felt a bit of pain, but I ignored it.

 

I bandaged my arm (seeing as the cuts couldn’t be healed by magic anymore), and got dressed in my warmest clothing. I went back to sleep, feeling warm for the first time in almost two months.

 

I felt slightly confident when I got dressed that morning. I put on an old white dress that I only wore once (I was afraid to get it dirty) and a jacket that I stole from Lily. They covered up the scars and slowly color changing bruises perfectly, no one see them, notice them.

 

“I’m ugly.”

 

But when I went downstairs, everyone was eating. The last time I ate something was the day before we went on holidays, half a piece of plain toast that Landon brought me, but I didn’t even eat half of it.

 

Dad demanded that I sat next to him, then mum put down a huge plate of food and a huge glass of juice.

 

I told them that I wasn’t hungry, I was never hungry. They didn’t believe me.

 

It ended badly, juice was everywhere and a broken plate with food was all over the floor.

 

I made sure to walk through the glass as I stormed out, cutting up my feet pretty good.

 

I felt good as I walked out of the house, but as soon as I touched the sand of the beach, I blacked out.


	4. Chapter Three: Slut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in this chapter are as following: minor drug use, anorexia, self-harm, underage sex, and abusive relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not trying to romanticize mental illness or eating disorders.

 

## Chapter Three: Slut

 

 

_I tried to dance with the devil on your back_  
_And given half the chance would I take any of it back_  
_It's a final mess but it's left me so empty_  
_It's always darkest before the dawn_  
_(Oh whoa, oh whoa)_

 

_And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't_  
_So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road_  
_And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope_  
_It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat_  
_'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me_  
_Looking for heaven, for the devil in me_  
_Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me_

\- Florence and the Machine

 

* * *

 

_Give me love like never before_  
_'Cause lately I've been craving more_  
_And it's been a while but I still feel the same_  
_Maybe I should let you go_  
_You know I'll fight my corner_  
_And that tonight I'll call ya_  
_After my blood is drowning in alcohol_  
_No I just wanna hold ya_

\- Ed Sheeran

* * *

 

I was a slut.

 

Landon Goldstein on the other hand, was pretty, was skinny, and was smart.

 

Much smarter than me, he was after all a Ravenclaw, and even though I didn’t want to admit it, I looked up to the Ravenclaws. They seemed to know everything, and if they didn’t they knew where to look.

 

The library.

 

I met Landon in the farthest corner of the library, away from the doors, away from everyone. Not even the librarian bothered with this corner of the library, it was the most quiet and unseen place in the castle.

 

It was where we began to truly see each other.

 

It started out simple, we talked and we shared cigarettes from his endless supply (and then later his drugs). I told him everything that was going on with me, about how I was making myself get sick, about how I cut myself in the shower every night. I told him about my family, about Molly and my parents and Freddie, I told him about my cousins, I told him about my friends.

 

He told me about how his dad hurts him every night he’s at home. He told me about how his mother ignores it, because it’s not her who’s getting hurt. He told me about how it was his fault that his little brother died. He told about how everything was his fault.

 

“I’m a slut.”

 

I said those words for the first time the night I kissed Landon. His lips had been warm and sweet tasting from whatever it was that he was smoking.

 

I didn’t sleep with him though, but I just knew I would.

 

We said I love you, before the first time, it was after the first set of holidays that I slept with him. I had no idea why, but I knew that I would’ve done it, even if he hadn’t’ve said the three words. Though a small part of me knew that he didn’t mean it, I had though.

 

We never left the library, he put up silencing charms all around us, and a special spell that if anyone walked by us, they would only see him studying. We never left the library; never together that is, he didn’t want anyone to see us together, something about it being dangerous.

 

It didn’t stop after that.

 

“I’m a slut.”

 

I wasn’t very shock the first time his fist hit me, in fact I had been waiting for it. I decided to never be late after that though. The ‘honeymoon’ period didn’t last for very long, and eventually it didn’t exist anymore.

 

Especially once the bump began to appear.

 

I couldn’t get rid of it, no matter how much I tried.

 

No matter how many times he hit me, the bump didn’t disappear.

 

I didn’t mind the pain coming from his hands, though. I didn’t mind the horrible feeling of his fingers digging into my bruises. I didn’t mind any of it.

 

Whether it was sex or abuse, I didn’t mind.

 

Landon began demanding things from me halfway between the holidays (Christmas/New Years and Easter).

 

He demanded that I wore fewer clothes.

 

I started to wear only tight revealing clothes, though they were always underneath my sweater and jeans.

 

He demanded that I only looked at him, no other boys.

 

I started walking around with my eyes glued to the floor.

 

He demanded that I only did what he wanted me to.

 

I ignored every other word said to me, unless it was Landon doing the talking.

 

“I’m a slut.”

 

I only spent my time with him. I would wake up in the morning and go straight to the library, and then I would wait for him. I had no problem waiting for him. I was never hungry, so I never ate. I never went to any of my classes anymore, so I was never late. I felt as if I was being prefect, always waiting and never complaining.

 

He still wasn’t happy; I was punished when he wasn’t happy.

 

I didn’t mind the punishment; it was different from how I punished myself.

 

When we went home for the holidays, I had thirty bruises scattered all over my body. But no one knew, no one could see them, I kept myself covered. I wore clothes that use to be tight, which were now too big, clothes that belonged to Molly, Dominique, and Lily. Clothes that I stole from them, I knew that they knew I took them; there was no way of hiding the fact. I was sitting in the same compartment as them, wearing their clothes.

 

On the train ride home, I found Landon one last time in an empty compartment.

 

“I’m a slut.”

 

I believed that, I believed it for the next few days.

 

I believed it, even when I was yelling at my parents for trying to make me eat. I believed it when I made sure to step in the glass shards all over the kitchen floor of the beach house. I believed it, even when I walked out of the house, onto the beach.

 

Even when everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left!


	5. Epilogue: You Are Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are no more big warnings, as we've made it to the end! Welcome to the epilogue everyone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the last time, I want to put out there that I am not romanticizing mental illness or eating disorders.

** Epilogue: You Are Beautiful **

 

 

_I know you've never loved the sound of your voice on tape_   
_You never want to know how much you weigh_   
_You still have to squeeze into your jeans_   
_But you're perfect to me_

 

_I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth_   
_But if it's true, it's you, it's you, they add up to_   
_I'm in love with you and all these little things_

_You never love yourself half as much as I love you_

  
_You'll never treat yourself right darling but I want you to_   
_If I let you know, I'm here for you_   
_Maybe you'll love yourself like I love you oh_

\- One Direction

* * *

 

“It’s a long list, Angelina, George. It’s going to take a long time for her to fully recover and she may not because of the severity of some of the… issues. She’ll be under our custody for quite a while,” a voice said, it would be a kind voice that I would get used to, one that would be in my life for the rest of it.

 

“Just give it to us, what’s the matter with Roxanne.” Mum, she sounded angrier than anything.

 

“All right then. We’ve diagnoised her Anorexia; which has caused her malnourished and dehydration state. This has caused her bones to become very weak and brittle from lack of calcium, the same with her hair, that’s why its white at the roots and has stopped growing in. she has sleep deprivation and we’ve found traces of nicotine and marijuana in her blood; there’s a lot of strange cuts on her arms and legs, which by the way their clustered and the way they’ve been cut we would consider it self-harm; she has bruises all over her which I believe may have come out of an abusive relationship; and she’s miscarried a pair of twins last week, which we’ve already taken care of. We’ve also set up an I.V. drip and have a line going into her for food and water. She’s very lucky that she’s still alive; I’m surprised that she hasn’t fainted sooner, or broke any bones when she fell. Your daughter has no idea how lucky she is.”

 

How lucky I was? She was going to make me fat again, make me ugly again; she was going to take Landon away from me.

 

I opened my eyes.

 

It was so bright and everything hurt, my body, my head, everything. I tried to move my arms, but there was needles stuck in both of them.

 

“Roxanne, I’m Healer Rose Zeller,” said the voice, the voice that told mum and dad everything, everything that was _apparently_ wrong with me, “welcome to St. Mungo’s rehab ward.”

 

I suddenly wished that I wasn’t so lucky.

 

#### Three Years Later

 

“Good morning everyone, this is Roxy-Rox your DJ this morning on Toast and Tea,” I said into my magical microphone, I put my feet up on the soundboard, breaking the rules just like I did every morning since I started. “I hope your all ready to get up, here’s ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ by the one and only, One Direction.”

 

I pressed the button to turn the song on and put my feet down under the desk, feeling something squishy. I screamed when the squishy thing grabbed my leg and began pulling at it.

 

I tried kicking it with my other foot, but it grabbed that leg too.

 

Then a head popped out.

 

“Who’re you?” he asked, I could hear the sleep thick in his voice. Who would fall asleep under the soundboard counter?

 

“What? Who are you?” I asked him, trying to pull my legs out of his grasp; I didn’t even notice that I was back on air.

 

“Sean, Sean Finnigan, from Finn and Gin in the afternoon,” he said, finally letting go of my legs. I still had yet to meet all the other hosts, even though I had been working at the radio station for the last year and a half. “And you?”

 

“Roxanne Weasley,” I told him, then I heard the tapping on the glass, we both turned our heads to look at the station producer. He mouthed the words ‘you’re on air’.

 

“Oh,” I squeaked, but before I could grab the microphone, Sean had it in his hands.

 

“Hey everyone, its Sean from Finn and Gin in the afternoon. I thought that I would stop by and hangout with Roxy-Rox this morning, here’s ‘I Won’t Give Up’ by Jason Mraz.”

 

We were off air again; I took this as my chance to eat. I really did find it ironic that I always had coffee and a bagel (or muffin) for breakfast when my show was called ‘Toast and Tea’. Sean seemed to have thought that this was funny to, as he called me out on it.

 

“Coffee and a bagel?” he said, laughing, “really?”

 

I smiled; I didn’t have the choice in my show name, unlike him. “No choice.”

 

Really I was just happy that I didn’t have to eat every meal supervised again. Healer Zeller finally told mum and dad that I could eat one meal by myself. I was finally able to move out too, but I still had to be with someone while I ate (to make sure I ate everything) and for an hour afterwards (to make sure that I didn’t throw anything up).

 

At first, when I got home, I was under constant supervision. Mum wouldn’t let me out of her sight for the first few months; I wasn’t even allowed to sleep in my room by myself. But slowly she let up as I started to improve more and more, I could sleep by myself (with my door wide open), I could make my own plate of food (which always had more vegetables than anything, but I was getting better), and I could get a job (which was just at the shop, but I wasn’t complaining).

 

Dad had been a bit better about letting me have my own freedom, he would let me eat upstairs in the flat, but that was only because LeeAnne was up there with the twins (seeing as she and Freddie moved there once the twins were born). Dad would also let me be by myself for the hour after I had eaten, but I was always in one of the shop aisles or at the cash register or in someone’s sight at all times.

 

So while I was gaining a bit of trust, I was also still being constantly watched.

 

But the first year was the hardest. It had been really hard to not relapse, and sometimes I did, but then I was dragged back to St. Mungo’s and had a hundred or so tests taken.

 

The second year had been better, I was still living at home, but I wasn’t being constantly watched. I still had to eat every meal supervised, but it was okay for me to eat breakfast with dad in the morning, go to the Burrow for lunch (which I didn’t do often, I still can’t eat what Nana Molly would consider a ‘proper’ serving), and then have dinner with Freddie and LeeAnne.

 

About halfway through the year, I put my resume in an ad for the radio station, where I’ve been working at ever since. This did cause a bit of a problem, but I was able to work through it.

 

Now I’m working at a job that I enjoy, can eat breakfast by myself, and have a flat that I live at by myself. I don’t have any mirrors in there, and dad actually got rid of the ‘Insult Mirror’ at home.

 

I went through a lot of therapy, and one of the things that I think started my ‘Sickness’ as we call it, was being told that I was ugly by the mirror at a very small age.

 

And I regret every minute of my ‘Sickness’. I missed out on a lot because of it; I didn’t get to go back to school with my brother and cousins. They did sign me out to attend the Memorial Ceremony for those who died in the Second Wizarding War (like my Uncle Fred and Aunt Roxanne, whom my brother and I were name), and my graduation, though I didn’t really feel like I deserved to go, or get my diploma (I did do all the homework and class work that I missed when I skipped class every day. Then I took my N.E.W.T.’s later in the summer).

 

I did get to be there for when LeeAnne had the twins, my nephew’s Benji and Johnny. I was even allowed to hold them, but only one at a time, I was still really weak.

 

But other than that, I was stuck in the hospital until the end of July, and even then I was still there almost every day because mum wouldn’t let me go to the shop with dad. She thought that dad would get distracted and I would hurt myself again.

 

“Roxanne, we’re on air,” said Sean, he handed me my microphone, then grabbed the spare, plugging it in. “Hi, everyone! And good morning!”

 

I smiled and made a bit of conversation with Sean, who seemed to want to know everything about me.

 

#### Two Months Later

 

“Wow,” said Sean, looking around my living room and kitchen/dining room. “Nice.”

 

“Thanks,” I told him, then noticed that his eyes were trained to the collage on the wall, Dominique (with the help of Louis) had cut out pictures of all of us (cousins, siblings, aunts, uncles, my parents, our grandparents) and put it together, some were upside down, some right side up, but the picture said ‘YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL’, with our red hair. “That’s a long story.”

 

He turned to me, I still had yet to talk about my ‘Sickness’ with him, but he didn’t ask any questions, just continued on looking around.

 

“Do you have kids that I don’t know about?” he asked, I sighed, he met the twins a week ago, along with my parents and Freddie (well officially met us, his family owns the bakery on Diagon Alley, and Freddie and I often went down there and stole cookies or whatever treat we could grab).

 

“It’s just for when the twins visit,” I told him, but it could’ve been for my children, if I hadn’t’ve miscarried. Their room had a bed, which was their when I moved in, and I added an old crib that I found for a few Galleons at a resale shop in Diagon Alley.

 

“Oh,” he said, and then went off looking again.

 

“Are you…searching for something?” I asked him, I finding him in my bedroom.

 

“Yes, well…uh, no.”

 

“Sean, I know there’s no mirror.”

 

When I moved in, the only mirror there was, was in the bathroom (seeing as my apartment only had one, it connected the two bedrooms). When Molly came over for the first time and saw that I was just using an old towel to cover it, she made me a special cover for my mirror. It was an old, plain pillow case, but she opened one of the sides, sewed the top close, and wrote in her best handwriting, ‘You Are Not _PRETTY_ , You Are **_BEAUTIFUL_** ’.

 

I’ve never looked in a mirror since.

 

“Why? And what’s with the whole ‘You Are Beautiful’ thing, I mean you are, but why?” he asked, coming out of the bathroom, I sighed and sat down on my bed.

 

“It’s a lo-“

 

“I know it’s a long story, but…but I love you, and I want to know.”

 

I knew he meant it, not like Landon all those years ago. Sean really did love me, and I loved him too.

 

“I…Sean…I love you too,” I told him, and I met his eyes for a second. “But I’m just not ready; I can barely talk about this to my Healer.”

 

It was true; I still choked up when I talked about my ‘Sickness’ to Healer Zeller.

 

“Please, Anne, tell me,” he whispered, he took both of my always cold hands into his big warm ones. “I need to know, I need to understand why I have to make sure you eat everything on your plate, why I have to watch you for an hour after you eat. I need to know why I can’t have razors when we move in together and why you’re afraid of mirrors.”

 

I felt a few tears come to my eyes, “because I hurt myself a lot when I was seventeen,” I told him, he nodded, as if he understood. “I made myself sick every day, I cut myself every night, I let this stupid boy beat me up and get me pregnant. I almost died, Sean. Because I thought that I could control myself, because I thought that I was fat, and ugly, and a slut. I thought that I would be okay if I didn’t eat anything for several days straight, and then throw up the little I did eat after that. I wouldn’t even let myself eat a quarter of a piece of dry toast.”

 

“Roxanne,” he pulled me into his arms and I let the tears in my eyes spill over. “I’ll _never_ let you do that again.”

 

“Thank you,” I told him, “thank you so much.”

 

He moved into my flat two days later.

 

#### Ten Months Later

 

I knocked lightly on the familiar door, I was so scared. What if, kept coming to my mind, what if, what if, what if?

 

I opened the door, unable to wait. I was slightly shocked though to see Healer Macmillan, he was well known in my family as the ‘Pregnancy Healer’. I suddenly felt as if I was interrupting a private moment.

 

“Roxanne, come in, we were just having some tea,” said Healer Zeller, she pointed to the chair that I always consider mine. “I’ll pour you a cup.”

 

“No thank you,” I told her, sitting down nervously, I was shaking.

 

“Are you okay?” asked Healer Macmillan, I nodded, though it was obvious that I wasn’t.

 

“Roxanne, just say it,” said Healer Zeller, she had poured me a cup anyways, I glared at it. LeeAnne never drank tea when she was pregnant.

 

“I think I’m pregnant,” I told her, pushing the tea away from me.

 

Healer Macmillan sighed, “I’ll get a test ready, come down with her in a few minutes Rose.”

 

“Sure thing Ernie,” she said so playfully, he smiled at her as he walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

 

“Are you sure Roxanne, I know you and Sean are getting pretty serious, but a baby is a very big project,” Healer Zeller told me, I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling tears come to my eyes.

 

“I’m so scared,” I whispered, looking up at her, her face softened as the first few tears slid down my face.

 

“I felt the same way,” she said, I nodded, I’ve meet the Macmillan children plenty of times before; Carson, Maggie, William, and Amelia. “But you have a big group of people who will stand behind you and help you in any way that you need, me included.”

 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

 

When I left St. Mungo’s with a bag of potions and a few pamphlets about what was going to happen to me and how to deal with it, along with others talking about both of my conditions and how they went hand-in-hand. All I could think of though was that I was pregnant, that it was Sean’s (someone who loved me more than anything), and how I was going to tell him.

 

“Sean, I have some great news,” I told him, as I went through my clothes. I was still pretty skinny, I would probably always be as skinny as I am, at least that’s what Healer Zeller told me all those years ago, but now I was healthy. “We’re still on for dinner tonight, right?”

 

“Yeah, gosh this traffic is horrible,” he said, I heard beeping in the background, then another voice say, “Roxy! We’ll go shopping tomorrow, you, me, the little guys, and LeeAnne!”

 

I smiled, Mason, Sean’s little brother. Mason was a very interesting guy, he worked for my cousins Molly and Lucy at their bouquet, and he also had a great sense of style, just not for him. He was what I heard someone say before, a ‘flamboyant gay’, but I’ve grown to love him and Veronica (Sean’s little sister).

 

“Tell Mason, it’s on. I’ll see you later Sean.”

 

“I love you Anne,” he said, as the beeping suddenly got louder.

 

“I love you too, Sean.”

 

Sean and Mason were killed a few minutes later in a car crash.

 

He never knew about the baby(s).

 

I always wear the ring that he and Mason went to get that day, on a chain around my neck.

 

I had to move back in with my parents until the twins were a little over a year old.

 

Sean Thomas Finnigan, Jr. and Clara Susan Finnigan.

 

My beautiful, beautiful children. I never let them forget that, I never let them believe that they were fat, or ugly, or sluts. I never let them forget that I loved them, that their father loved them too.

 

I never let them forget how much I cared about them.

 

As their not pretty, they are the most beautiful babies I ever saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I know this was quite a ride, this story means a lot to mean for different reasons. I won't got to far into it, but I've had anxiety and weight issues since I was about twelve, though I've never gone to the extreme that Roxanne had.
> 
> That being said, I hope to explore Roxanne's story more in the future, I have a lot of plans for her and her family.


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